Chapter 109 No Second-guessing

Chapter 109 No Second-guessing
I blinked, surprised at myself.

Dr. Ramirez nodded slowly and looked into my eyes.

“Tell me about Joan,” she said.

I stared at the floor again, my chest tight.

“She was… the only person who never asked me to be anything more than myself. We had something real, I betrayed her and she forgave me again. But… I betrayed her a second time, due to my mother’s pressure and because I thought I had to do the right thing. And here I am, wondering if I will ever feel that kind of connection again.”

Dr. Ramirez went quiet again.

Then she spoke gently.

“It sounds like Joan represents something important to you. Not just a person, but a time when you felt seen... Maybe the first step is figuring out how to see yourself that way again.”

I sighed.

We had been talking for twenty minutes already and I kept circling the same truth without landing on it.

“I keep thinking about how I let it all happen,” I said finally. 

“My mother pushing Cassandra into my life, me going along with it because it was easier than fighting her, and Marcus using me for years while I called him my best friend. I saw the signs but I ignored them. Why did I do that?”

“What do you think is behind that pattern, Alex?” Dr. Ramirez asked, tilting her head slightly.

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my trousers.

I knew what was behind the pattern, but it was just too heavy for me to say myself. But maybe it's high time I faced the truth.

I closed my eyes and allowed the words to flow freely.

“I’ve always been the one who tries to keep peace, the one who says yes even when I want to say no, the one who avoids conflict because I’m scared of losing people even when I was being hurt. I thought if I was doing the right thing and if I was good enough, they would love me and stay with me.”

“Hmm…” Dr. Ramirez sighed.

“That’s people-pleasing and avoidance and those are protective strategies. They helped you survive in a family where love felt conditional but they also kept you from setting boundaries and protecting yourself.”

I opened my eyes and stared into the blank.

“Yeah… and now I’m paying for it. The company is gone and my reputation is ruined,” I muttered and paused for a few seconds, rubbing my temple slowly.

Then I continued.

“I cut my mother off, but part of me still feels guilty for it. I feel like I’m a bad son for finally saying enough.”

Dr. Ramirez leaned forward a little.

“Guilt is common in these patterns, but guilt isn’t the same as responsibility. You are allowed to protect your peace, Alex. You are allowed to say ‘I won’t let you treat me this way anymore’. That’s not being a bad son, it’s you being honest with your feelings.”

I sat there, processing her words for a long moment.

Dr. Ramirez didn’t push further either.

“I think I need to make it official…” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“With my mother. I told her to stay away, but I kept second-guessing myself. I need to cut contact completely until she can take responsibility for what she did. Until she can apologize without excuses and until she sees how her action contributed to all of this.”

“That sounds like a health boundary,” Dr. Ramirez smiled gently.

“How does saying that aloud feel?”

“Terrifying,” I admitted.

“But also… necessary. I can’t keep letting her back in every time she cries or guilt-trips me. I have to protect what’s left of me.”

We spent the rest of the session talking about how to enforce that boundary without going back to the old habits. 

And when the hour ended, I felt drained but my mind was clearer than it had been in weeks.

I drove back to the small apartment in silence, reflecting on everything that was said during my therapy session. When I got home and stepped inside, the walls no longer felt suffocating. Instead, they felt like something I could rebuild on my own terms.

I dropped my keys on the folding table, sat on the edge of the mattress, and pulled out my phone.

I unlocked it and found my endless messages and missed calls from my mother.

I ignored them, typed a message to her, then I deleted it.

I typed again, deleted again until I could finally write what I needed to say.

“Mom, I need space. I can’t have you in my life right now. You pushed Cassandra on me knowing her background. You lied to me. You made decisions that contributed to the destruction of my company and my trust. Until you can take full responsibility for that and apologize without excuses, I need you to stay away. Please respect this. I will reach out when I’m ready.”

I hit send before anything would change my mind.

Then I turned my phone off, and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Now, I finally felt like I was choosing myself.



The next evening, I was unpacking one of my last boxes when a knock sounded on my door.

I froze.

No one knew where I lived except my lawyer and the building manager.

I hadn’t given anybody else my address except them.

The door came again, softer this time and almost hesitant.

I walked through the door and looked through the peephole.

Then and there, I saw Mrs. Evelyn Hart standing outside.

How on earth did she know I was there?

She was dressing gorgeously as always, but her face looked pale and tired as she clutched her bag with both hands.

“Alex?” she called through the door.

“Please, I know you are in there. I just want to talk. Five minutes is all I’m asking for.”

I didn’t open the door and I didn’t reply either.

“I know what I did was wrong,” she continued.

“I thought Cassandra would be good for you. I didn’t know she would do something like that. I didn’t know about the baby either. Please, Alex. Let me in.”

“Something like that?”

My whole world is falling apart and she called it something like that?

I closed my eyes, anger swirling within me.

Then I remembered Dr. Ramirez’s words.

“You are allowed to protect your peace.”

“I can’t do this right now,” I whispered to myself.

There was silence at the door for a while, then a soft sob came.

“Alex… I’m your mother,” she said, her voice shaking.

“That’s why it hurts this much,” I muttered, stepping away from the door.

She knocked again.

“Please…”

I didn’t answer.

After a few minutes, I heard her footsteps retreating down the hallway.

I slid down against the door until I was sitting on the floor with my back against the wood and my head in my hand.

“I did it,” I mumbled under my breath.

I sat there for a while, then stood back up to continue unpacking.

I saw a small box that had been pushed to the back of the closet. I had forgotten about it until that evening.

I dragged it closer and sliced through the tape with a kitchen knife

Inside were random things I hadn’t bothered to sort when I left the old house. 

It contained old notes, a couple of framed certificates, and a worn leather portfolio from my high school days.

I lifted the portfolio out and set it aside.

Then my fingers brushed against something at the bottom.

“What’s that?”